Bullseye's Story Part 3: Son To Father To Son
by BlushBunnyC3
Summary: We take a step back in time, into further of the deep-rooted history that occurs in the generation of the parents of now, and it's not pretty... especially not for a young male named Graff Warthogg...
1. Meet The Warthoggs

Sonic Underground: "The Story Of The Past"  
  
Title: "Bullseye's Story Part 3 (Son To Father, Father To Son)"   
  
Author: BlushBunnyC3

* * *

Author's Note: This story here is written both to help the Warthogg Family history, and see some of the events from my very first and oldest fic "The Birth Of Mobotropolis" in a more recent and detailed account. Most of it is seen through the perspective of Sir Graff Warthogg (Bullseye's father), and it explains exactly why he is who he has become, the family he never speaks of from his 'distant' past, how he met Beatrice, why they separated, and his relationship with his sons (but like all my fics, it's written in 'omniscient' perspective and viewpoint, so that we know what's on everyone's mind and stuff). And it also explains a certain event that happens in 'BS Part 2'. Now I give you leave to read on... enjoy! All characters © BlushBunnyC3, except Sonic characters © SEGA, Archie & DiC. (If any songs come up, I'll be updating this first page, as usual, along with character castings.)

* * *

Cast Of Characters ( " " means official owned character)  
  
Dara Warthogg  
  
Darlene Warthogg  
  
Stanley Warthogg  
  
(Sir)Graff Warthogg  
  
Joseph Wolfe  
  
Margaret Wolfe  
  
Griff Swifteye  
  
Lady Faith Mongoose  
  
Lady Eleanor Rose  
  
Beatrice Rose(Warthogg)  
  
Paul Sabre  
  
(Sir)Svein Wolfe  
  
Jack Rabbit  
  
Sir Blackburn  
  
Sir"Jules Hedgehog"

* * *

Prologue: In the year of 3166, in the Southern regions of Mobius, a baby warthog was born to parents Stanley and Darlene Warthogg, and their eldest born, four year old son Dara. He was named 'Graff', a strong sounding name, to bring promise of being a strong son. Well-named it was, for learning what strength really was, in it's physical and mental states would be one of Graff's purposes in life, a life that was like the ultimate test; how much pain could one stand before a fall? He was destined to never fall from pain, something he would call a blessed curse or a cursed blessing. It was a blessing in the sense that he would survive and overcome, but it was a curse in the way that there were times he just didn't WANT to go on, just wanted to give up and fall with the ones he cared for. But fate is a crafty and ironic dealer, and Graff, whether he wanted to or not, would keep on going.

* * *

Chapter 3:  
  
The light of the room was dim and scarce, due to the mostly drawn-shut curtains, eloping the weak glass windows. Breaking the peaceful silence, was the tiny creaking sound of the door opening. The young warthog entering, flinched at the sound, as if it was a loud one. Warily slipping in, the boy looked to the bed nearby. In it, was his mother. The female warthog was fast asleep, obviously weary and exhausted from the labour, he knew. Dara also knew he shouldn't be in there, then. Just an hour earlier, his father Stanley had come out the room, to tell his son of the baby's birth. But, as his wife Darlene had fallen into a much needed sleep, Stanley told his son he should wait for another few hours to go in and see his mother and the baby, so they could rest. But after one hour, and at his father leaving the house, to go collect some firewood, Dara could wait no longer. He'd already been waiting patiently all month for the arrival of his new baby brother, and he wasn't going to wait any longer; he had to see now! The child looked eagerly at the basket, where the infant was apparently slumbering as well. Much to Dara's disappointment, it was placed in a point too high for him to look into. A pouting look clouded his face. Now what? Then he thought, and noticed the small stool near the door. Hope renewed, he rushed to it, then remembering he was supposed to be 'quiet' as in not there, he carefully picked it up, and crept back. Placing the stool in the best spot, he stepped up onto it, and looked up. It was just barely high enough for him to stand on tiptoe and peer into the basket. Good enough. Leaning up on his hooven feet, Dara gazed down into it. That's when his hair suddenly fell into his eyes. The warthog's mane was different than most. The color was like that of Darlene's; a brown so dark, it was almost black. The mane part of it was normal at the top, but the bottom part was somewhat curled into an almost 'C' shape. And the top bit was the most unusual, for unlike majority of male warthogs who had a tuft of hair, like a huge bang. Dara had a hairline split, and a set of some three bangs on each side, moreso like female warthogs had and few males. They were abnormally long, which caused them to frequently block his vision. It was this, that had Stanley once remarking to Darlene that his hair was too 'feminine' and wanted to have it cut. His wife, though usually weak at argument, managed to talk him out of it that time. Dara liked his hair just fine, except for the little moments like this, when it got in his way, at a silly timing. The youngster impatiently blew his hair out of his face, to see. And there it was, in the basket lay the sleeping little creature, breathing softly, his chest rising with each breath. His tiny balled fists were held against his face, and a tuft of a tawny almost orange, brown hair lock rest gently over his eyelids. One of his tufty ears flicked, and he let out a small yawn, in sleep. Dara gazed at him with utter awe, his big green eyes hardly blinking. He wished that the stool was higher, so that he could touch him, or better yet, hold him. The baby looked so cute and cuddly! Just then, a gentle voice spoke, "-Dara?" The young warthog quickly looked up, with a start. "Mamma," he gulped. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-" Darlene shook her head, slowly. "-It's alright, darlin', I know." It's not your fault... you were just excited, right?" Her son nodded, solemnly. The mother motioned him to her. Dara stepped off the stool, and came onto the bed, crawling into his mother's lap. She held her arms softly around him, smiling. "Now that's better..." Darlene kissed him affectionately between the eyes, and stroked his bangs. "So... would you like to see your baby brother, better?" Obviously, he did. But he was considerate, and asked, "-But... isn't he sleeping?" That's when a small cry came from the basket, and grew into a wail. Dara looked towards it and back to his mother, amazed. "-How did you-?" The female warthog simply replied, "-A mother knows." Her son moved off her, so she could reach over for the baby. Darlene took the infant into her arms, and laid back on the pillows again. The newborn warthog whimpered and sniffed, starting to calm down. Not wanting to be in the way, the elder child watched, wordlessly. The mother warthog noticed this, and spoke, "-Oh come on... don't be shy now." Meet your brother, love." Dara slowly moved over, to her outstretched free arm, that went around him, embracing, and she smoothed his mane. "-This is Graff... can you say hello to him?" Shyly, in a timid voice, he said, "-Hi..." The baby gave a yawn, and blinked open his eyes. They were green like Dara's, except for the difference in shade; Dara's were a lush plant-like green and Graff's were a light ice-like green. He stared at his big brother, with wonder and curiousity, yet familiarity. The infant gave a small gurgling coo sound, and reached up an arm, as if he was out towards Dara, then sleepily rubbed an eye. Little newborn Graff WAS just a tiny thing, after all. The four year old beamed at him, taken in by this seemingly burst of friendliness. Dara just couldn't help himself; he leaned over and gave Graff a brotherly kiss on the forehead. The newborn looked surprised, but in a good sense. The elder son said softly, "-He's the cutest baby, ever." Darlene just about teared up; she couldn't believe how much they seemed to care about each other. "My little angels," she sighed, contently, nuzzling them close. Baby Graff was soon asleep again, his little fist curled around his big brother's offered fingers. Still being a rather infant age himself, Dara soon gave into slumber, and napped in his mother's arms with the baby. Darlene held her precious little ones, as any good mother would, watching over them as they slept, full of awe and happiness. It was a moment and feeling worth more than any riches or wealth of the world; a true and rare 'gem'-like memory that the mother warthog would treasure for the rest of her life. And from that day on, the Warthogg brothers were inseparable.   
  
A month, more or less, passed. Dara had been put to bed, and Graff too, was asleep, as Stanley and Darlene were conversing in hushed tones, so as to not wake their children. It was a hot, humid night, quite natural for the climate of their region, the Southern land of Mobius. The adult male was in mood of sorts; half of the reason of their conversation. Means of work and providing were growing small and slim of late in their town, and Stanley was starting to consider what others were mentioning. Darlene, of course, was shocked at this. "-Stanley, you can't be serious!" Us... leave... here?" "-Darlene, ah know it sound brash, but ah'm startin' ta think it's the only way!" The female rubbed her temples, trying to prevent the headache from worsening. "No... it can't be!" Stanley, we've always managed here-" Her husband sighed, "It called a droppin' economy, Darlene, there nothin' we can do about it." Hard times call for hard choices, and considerin-" "-But... we've been here forever!" We were both raised here, married here, and our babies were born here-" Darlene cried. "-Ah know, ah know this, Darlene," Stanley insisted. "Yeh have ta believe me when ah say ah don't wanna leave here anymore than yah do." But now that things are gettin' worse 'round here, and we got two little ones ta provide for, we can't exactly stand our ground too firm no more." His wife bit her lip, despairingly. "-Oh, I know... but still... us move to the city??" Stanley, we don't know anything about-" "-We will soon enough," the male said firmly. "And come now... no need to worry so much... if any of them city slickers get smart, ah'll learn 'em not to cross me, in a good 'ol Southern matter, and they'll know to give us a wide berth, ah promise yeh, Darlene love." The female knew well how her mate could get respect or fear out of people. Her protesting was growing weak reason now, but she tried one last thing. "-I suppose... yet one thing still worries me, Stanley." "-And that be?" The mother warthog stood over the cradle nearby, the baby fast asleep. She gently stroked his downy mane. "-I just... hate to travel so far, with our boys being so small... Graff alone is barely a month old, just a baby!" she pleaded, pitifully. "Is going so far right now, such a good idea?" Stanley gave her a rather disappointed look. "-For Pete's sake, Darlene, yeh make it sound like we're makin' 'em WALK there!" They're plenty capable of toleratin' it." Dara knows how to sit quietly and Graff knows how to be held and lie at peace, don't they?" They'll LIVE, woman, without a doubt." His wife lowered her gaze, mournfully. She looked in such a way, that Stanley tried to reassure her. "-Really, this could be a GOOD thing for us, love." They say the city's got plenty of opportunity and full of life." We be both ADULTS here; we know how ta adjust." Could be a good thing for the boys too; they'll git to meet new children their age, and Dara might even make some mates and all." Do that sound so bad?" Hearing it in this tone didn't as much, Darlene admitted, lightly. And she very well knew, there was no use in persisting any further against the matter at this point; you didn't argue with Stanley once his mind was made up. Her weak nature got to her; she gave in, without protest. "-Very well, Stanley... if you insist so, it shall be then." We will go to Romatropolis."   
  
And so, the Warthoggs soon packed their belongings and whatever they were able to take, and in less than a week, found themselves beginning the journey by horse-drawn carriage, driving on the safer and main road of the country. True, it was shorter traveling through the desert, but obviously, you didn't want to be in a hazardous and unpredictable environment like that when you had a family and as much luggage as they did. Plus you could easily get lost there, if you didn't paid enough heed to your surroundings, even if you ignored it for a moment. It was the road less traveled, taken by the more heroic and risking type. But needless to say, Stanley didn't have much patience for that, what he called "foolish bravery balderdash", and the road "taken by idiots with a dead-wish". Sure he wasn't the friendly type, but at least he wasn't thick-skulled when it came to common sense on such topics. And on top of it all, their 'riders' weren't accustomed to such terrain to travel on so, even more the reason for avoidance. It was strange; in a world of advanced evolution, that there were still quite a number of the lesser evolved domestic species surviving and continuing on as they always had. Only difference was in the looks of their 'masters', who now looked like a distant trace of ancestry of them. In fact, it wasn't too out of the ordinary for certain species of Mobians, like horses, cows, cats, dogs, rabbits and birds, to be able to find a domesticated and ancient evolution species of themselves in the world around them. But at the moment, nothing even so remotely interesting was within little Dara's view, in the carriage. He was bored to pieces, his youthful energy ready to burst at the thought of having to sit still for another hour. They'd been riding all day, stopping thrice for a rest and meals. Yet it wasn't enough for the four year old, who'd never been 'shut up' in such a closed and limited space for so long. He wanted to run outside, to shout and laugh, and play. The young warthog wondered if it was possible to perish from boredom. He sure FELT like it, in this rigid sitting posture and his tightly shut lips. Baby Graff had displayed somewhat cranky temper earlier on, but had since fallen asleep, and was now deep in slumber, in Darlene's arms. Dara considered a nap, but then decided, grumpily, a nap was boring too. He wasn't tired at all. He then starting thinking what seemed 'devious'. Dara began slowly shifting about in his seat, seeing if his mother would notice. She didn't; she was focused on the sleepy infant. So he fidgeted around some more. Still unnoticed, he began placing and replacing himself, in various seated or lying down positions. Then he started somewhat 'drumming' his hands against his lap, and then started swinging his legs out and back in, sometimes hitting the seat. Just when he began to feel a little better, he then heard his father's voice call to him, in a gruff tone, "-Dara, will ya please sit still??" That's enough." Dara immediately froze, as Stanley's gaze riveted onto him. He gave an ashamed, yet pouting look, to show his mood. His father gave him a look. "-S'matter?" The child mumbled, "-I'm bored, Daddy." We've been drivin' all day..." Just as the father warthog seemed about to scold him, Darlene spoke, "-Stan, I think he's right there." We've been on the road for hours, and this ain't no environment for a small boy... we need to stop... SOON, at most." Even 'I' need the air." Stanley considered this. He sighed, appearing somewhat irritated. But his wife pressed, "-Please, love... where's the next closest place we can stop by for the night?" The husband slowly replied, "-Well... ah was gonna say we go on fer another two hours, til we reach the Northern Point place... but ah suppose we could stop in forty minutes, at the Esquriel Lot, instead, if yer gonna be insistin' all night..." "-That'll be fine," Darlene said, gratefully. "How does that sound, sweetie?" she asked Dara, gently. Dara nodded eagerly. "-Good!" "-Alright then, pumpkin, you just sit still for awhile longer, okay?" Her son grinned, and did as she asked, excited it was almost over and they'd soon be in a new and wondrous place. Darlene smiled, and cuddled little Graff. 


	2. Here Come The Wolfes

As soon as they arrived, Darlene could see why Stanley had wanted to go onwards to the next point. The Esquirel Lot, from a glance, wouldn't be considered the most glamourous of fanciest of places; it was small, with quite a few settlements cluttered closely or too far apart to look decent or organized. This was something Stanley undoubtedly criticized. But Darlene saw it as 'homey' and 'warm' in the sense, so she didn't mind stopping here at all. The only thing she dreaded was her husband's scornful remarks and the like, and the fact that he expected her to listen to him fully, as a dutiful wife should, in his opinion. She tried not to think of it then, though. After speaking with a few of the passing residents, the Warthoggs rode on into the settlement, until they finally came to a small lodging house. The mother warthog waited in the wagon with the little ones, as Stanley approached the entrance and knocked. It was soon answered by another fully grown male. He was a wolf; ruffled looking grey fur, head covered in wisps of wild brown hair, and his muzzle and chin misted in a stubble of rough whiskers, hinting a beard. The most noticeable trait, further still, however, were his eyes. His right one was a fine, velvety dark blue, yet his left was a pale sky blue, even moreso lightened by the odd 'film' that seemed to go over and around his eyeball. It was one of those hard not to stare at things, but Stanley managed to hold his state. "Good evenin'," he said, polite as possible. The wolf gave a nod. "-Likewise." "Ah hear from yon townsfolk they say you takin' in Southern passbys for a place ta stay for a night?" the warthog inquired. "Aie... you heard truth." That I be," the wolf answered. "-Well... mah wife and young children been on the road all day... might it be possible if ah fill the slot?" The host considered this. "Hmmm... sounds reasonable, enough." You may take your horses back, in the west stables, and we shall assist you in your belongings inside." We? Stanley wondered who else, but decided wisely not to impose. "-Thank yeh very kindly, good sir," he spoke. The male wolf gave a nod of welcome, and then shut the door, as the warthog went back to the carriage. He did as the host had bade him, and in awhile, the Warthoggs were indoors, and their canine host greeted them. "-Do forgive me for not introducing myself," he apologized, firstly. "I am Jonah Wolfe." Given an opportunity to say something, Stanley responded, promptly, "-Pleasure ta meet." Ah'm Stanley Warthogg." This is mah wife Darlene, and our boys, Dara and Graff." Jonah gave a polite nod. "-Likewise, assured." Please follow me." They walked along their host, into what appeared to be a lounge room. There were the others he had spoken of. There were a group of various canine and vulpine specied Mobians, whom he introduced as assistants and such. Then he finally walked over to a chair, where a female wolf sat, obviously his mate. "-And this is my wife Margaret." They all said greeting to her, and she smiled and did the same. She was a light tan-ish brown fur color, with blonde hair, soft eyes and a pretty face. She was also noticeably pregnant. Darlene immediately warmed up to her, in the sense of being the presence of a familiar situation and female friend. Stanley thought bluntly, that she looked ready to drop a litter. While Jonah drew Stanley over to discuss the matter of their belongings and luggage, Margaret rose to her feet and said gently to Darlene, "-I'll show you three to your room, if you'll come with." Darlene held Graff in one arm, as Dare's small little fist clung to her other hand, as they followed the she-wolf. She led them through a few small hallways and into a decent-sized space for the family to stay in. The room proved to be well kept and tidy enough, despite what the outside of housing around appeared to be. There was one large bed for the couple to stay in, and an average/small-sized bed for the little ones. As he was excited and Stanley wasn't present to chide him, Dara released himself from his mother and ran up and onto the bed mattress. Like any young child , he couldn't resist bouncing up and down a little on it. Darlene gave a gentle look at her son. "-Now darling, mind your manners," she told him, lest they impose to their hostess. "We're guests here." The female wolf assured her, "'Tis alright, Mrs. Warthogg." No harm in it." It's been a long day's journey for your family, I hear?" The mother warthog nodded. "-It has." I just hope we won't be disturbing anyone's sleep." Dara should be quiet enough once we get him to bed, he's well behaved, just a little energy-venting at the moment, considering-" "-Understandable," Margaret said. "-However, I'm not so sure about this little one here," Darlene explained, carefully shifting the infant in her arms. "He seems to be tired enough; but like any baby at his age, he might be up at some time in the night, depending-" "-That's perfectly alright, ma'am, it's really no trouble," the wolf kindly insisted. Giving a rueful little smile, she added, "-I suppose I should be getting used to it, soon," referring to her soon-to-be born child. The female warthog gave her a reassuring smile. "-Your first one?" she asked. Margaret nodded, placing a hand on her heavily rounded front. "Jonah's very happy, as I am." People kept sayin' he wasn't fit to conceive a child." Her tone lowered. "-Not too many have much faith in him... because of his-" Darlene didn't need to hear the rest. "-I understand." The wolf glanced about. "-Well... I say it's awful cruel to lower a person just for how they LOOK, for the love of Pete..." "-I know, I agree," the warthog said, not mentioning the fact that her own husband WAS one of those people. "-I learned long ago when I met my husband that there's more than appearance," Margaret told her. "Yes, he might look a little 'grizzly' or 'gruff-ish', but beneath it all, he's a kind soul with a good heart." Others would be surprised, if they just gave him a chance." And I know he'll make a good father to our little one." The mother warthog admired the she-wolf's loyalty to her mate. "-Indeed, your husband seems a good man." "-He is." As does yours, Mrs.Warthogg," Margaret replied, politely. "He provides for us well," Darlene nodded, sincerely. At least THAT wasn't a lie. Their marriage was complicated in a matter of figures and involvement, and there were times when Darlene herself couldn't even explain it, considering she was somewhat simple-minded at times. Perhaps that's why she accepted the relationship and status as Stanley presented it to her; she wanted to be told what to do and to be taken care of. In many ways, her mind was somewhat infantile, with the exception of her knowledge of motherhood and certain common sense in the world. But when it came to a sense of orders and leadership, Darlene looked to Stanley, despite his abuse of it, not that she understood that his way was wrongdoing. The female wolf then spoke, "-I'll be letting you three retire, then... tis been a long night." I hope you'll be comfortable." "-We will, Mrs.Wolfe," Darlene told her. "Thank you for your hospitality." "-You're most welcome," Margaret responded. "-Good night." And she was gone, leaving the mother warthog and her sons. Having used up what little energy he had left, Dara sat and gave a loud yawn. Darlene looked to him, shaking her head. "-Oh goodness me... look at you!" How many hours past your bedtime it is, I don't even want to know... but I DO know that you should be getting to it now, darling." She first carefully laid baby Graff, still napping, in his basket, and she then took Dara up, and prepared him for bed. When he was snuggly tucked in, Darlene asked, softly, "-Sleepy, angel?" Dara slowly nodded. "-Where's Graff?" he wanted to know. "-He's sleeping in his basket, baby." You can play in the morning tomorrow, a little while before we leave, okay?" Dara agreed, "-Okay." Suddenly, a look of horror appeared in his expression, and he bolted up. "-Oh no!" Momma, where's Digger???" Did we leave him back-" "-Oh Dara, it's alright, of course we didn't leave Digger behind," his mother comforted him, as she stood up, and walked over to one of the bags. After rooting around in a few, she then came back, with a stuffed rabbit plush in her hand. "-See honey, here he is, safe and sound." Dara took the rabbit plushy, and hugged it tightly. "-Thank you Momma," he remembered to say. "-You're welcome, sweetie-pie," Darlene smiled warmly. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, brushing back his bangs. "Now get some sleep, we've got another big day ahead of us tomorrow." Dara snuggled up comfortably on his side, cuddling his bunny in his arms, and sunk his face wearily into the soft pillow, dreamland already pulling him inside.  
  
About an hour later, Stanley finally entered the room. It was late night, and everyone there was now preparing for bed. Obviously though, after having to put up with about an hour of self-restraint from speaking his thoughts, the warthog took no time in starting to go off to Darlene about what he REALLY thought. "-Where can ah even begin to speak on this place??" Stanley muttered, outloud. "Ah told ya we'd be better off goin' on for the extra hour, Darlene... this village ain't fit for wormsmeat." His wife paused, carefully thinking of an answer. "Stanley... I TOLD you the children at this age weren't fit for so much travel... they're EXHAUSTED, anymore traveling would be pushing the poor things." Her mate set his jaw. "Maybeh so... but still... to git put HERE of all places... perhaps if it weren't for that fogger of a wolf... Jo... whatever he be." The female warthog blinked. "-May I ask what is so wrong about him?" "Oh for Pete's sake woman, ya didn't see it yaself?" There be somethin ALL wrong about him... the mangy fur, the stubblin' excuse of a beard, and those eyes... CRIPES those eyes, Darlene, didn't yeh notice??" One be dark as night, and the other be filmed right over, all ghost sheet like... gives me the creeps just thinkin' of it!" That sort of look comes from ill breedin', Darlene... that one's no good, mark my words." His mate looked exasperated. "-Oh dear... perhaps he can't help his looks." His grooming, well maybe living here don't give much time to do so or we just happened to caught him unshaven... and as for having the albino white eye film, it's not his fault... many others before him have been born with the same defect." That's no right to condemn him from his right of being a decent person, Stanley." Honest to goodness." Stanley stared at her for a minute. Then he sighed, moodily. "Blimy hell, woman... whatevah then... forgit it." Trying to soothe his mood, Darlene stroked his shoulders. "-Oh Stanley... look at you, you're worn as any of us... let's try to get some sleep love... perhaps things will look better in the morning?" He rolled his eyes back. "Doubt it... but ya're right... hittin' the hay don't sound like such a bad idea." Showing one of his rare moments of affection, he turned around, embraced her, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. "Night love." "Rest well, dearest."  
  
Sleep, however, was unexpectedly disturbed in the night, hardly two hours after they had all gone to bed. And surprisingly, it wasn't the Warthoggs' baby that broke the silence... Darlene, being a light sleeper, woke first, thinking it was the children. Seeing that they were still fast asleep and the sound was coming from outside the room, she sighed with relief. But she lay still, hoping Stanley wouldn't hear it. Her hopes, however, were short-lived. He stirred and grumbled, "-Wuhh... fer pity's sake... who tha hell is makin' all that racket?" His wife said gently, "-It's probably nothing, dear, perhaps some late night sentry coming in." Let's go back to sleep." Stanley snorted, ill-humoured. "-'Nuthin' you say?" Pish woman, I was dead to Mobius bafore they went an' woke meh with all that hullabullo they're up to." Fer the love of God, Darlene, this is ridiculous!" This place is already ah worthless shanty as it is, an' now we've got hooligans hollerin' at wee hours in tha morning while decent people are tryin' to sleep!" I ought ta-" "-Now Stanley, please, you'll wake the boys!" Darlene said desperately, trying to calm him. "I've got a better idea... how about I go and see what's going on?" You just try to relax, love... you've been driving all day, you need your rest." Her husband stared, stern-eyed and shifting his jaw. You could never fully tell how he'd respond to a proposition. Finally, he hissed, "-Aye... alright woman... if yer a willin', go on ahead." Though ah doubt ah able ta git any rest with all this noise." Knowing she should leave right then, before he changed his mind, Darlene quickly swept on a robe, composing herself, and scooted out the door. The female abruptly wandered through the halls, looking to where the fuss was coming from. She was nearly knocked aside or over by Jonah, who came rushing suddenly from around the corner. "-Oh!" she gasped out, in surprise. The wolf halted in his tracks, seeing whom he'd just about ran into. "-Mrs.Warthogg!" he breathed. "Forgive me please... I did not mean to startle you-" "-What's going on?" Darlene wanted to know. "-I'm so sorry, I didn't realize what loudness was being made... it's just... my wife-" Jonah stammered. The female warthog understood. "-You mean she-" The wolf nodded. "I just sent someone for the doctor, I know that much..." he said, distractedly. "But now what do I do??" I don't know, I-" Darlene could see clearly he was on the verge of or perhaps WAS panicking. Knowing this whole situation perfectly well, the warthog began to set him straight. "-Well first off, calm down!" You're no help to anyone, in this state." Jonah swallowed hard, and nodded. "-Okay..." "-Now then..." Darlene started. "-You've got the most important part done; sent someone out." So for now, all you can do is wait for them to get back." But all the same, you standing out here ain't being much of use." How far along is she, by the way?" The wolf gave her a confused look, not understanding the question. "-I don't-" he started to say. Darlene blinked, "-I'm sorry, let me rephrase that." How long has it been since it started?" "-Oh... errr... I'm not exactly sure... I think around quarter to-" "-Alright then... long enough," the warthog nodded. "What you need to do is go back to your wife." Hold her hand and try to keep her calm, understand?" Jonah nodded, gingerly. "-Good." And I'll go out front and wait for the doctor to get here, alright?" "-Yes ma'am," he agreed. "Thank you so much, I really appreciate this, Mrs.Warthogg, you don't have to-" "-It's nothing, I'm glad to be of help," Darlene insisted. "Now go on!" The wolf took heed and rushed off. The warthog slowly made her way to the main hall, out the entrance. Walking out into the night air, she clasped her robe tight, keeping herself warm. Lowering herself down on the top step of the column, she gazed up above her. The sky which had been cluttered and smoggy a few hours before, was now a brilliant crystal clear blanket of jet black and blue, with stars ablaze in light, a display of shimmering natural beauty. Seeing this, Darlene smiled, feeling more at home, with the open view of the sky. No housing or towers in the villages were near tall enough to block a view of the night. Back in their old home, settlements were so small and far between, it was like a pioneer setup (which was why Darlene couldn't understand why Stanley called THIS place 'in the middle of nowhere'). The female inhaled deeply, taking in the peace and serenity of the silence and calm. This type of environment put her mind and heart at ease. Small, free, and quiet place. The thought of moving to the city, in a place of great things, many people, and only so much space to live and breathe, gave her spells, which she tried to put to silence, without much success. Darlene then was distracted by a light coming towards her. Realizing it was a carriage, that obviously was the called doctor, she rose to her feet. "-Right... being of use," she said, absentmindedly to herself, and drew out to meet the wagon. 


	3. Staring The Future In The Face

Morning seemed to come too soon, especially for Darlene, who'd spent those extra few hours awake. She and Stanley were silent and expression-less as they drank their coffee and ate their morning meal. Dara however, was wide awake with excitement, like any child, a day could never start soon enough. He was contently playing his own little game by himself on the floor, his bunny plush in tow. His father stared at him for a minute or two, before grunting, "-Yah eaten' yet, boy?" The young warthog blinked at Stanley, as his mother quickly supplied, "-Yes dear, I fed him earlier." Her husband's eyebrows narrowed, still glaring towards Dara. He finally responded, "-Well feed 'em somethin' else." He'sa still skinny as ah girl." Darlene lowered her eyes in respect, and did as he bid her. She motioned her son to come to her and she drew him into her lap. Dara accepted the piece of bread and jam she offered, with no objection, and nibbled it down. As he ate, he glanced over at baby Graff, who lie wide awake in his basket, taking in everything within sight, with enormous interest. Having finished his bread, Dara slowly slid off his mother's lap and walked over to the baby's basket. He stood beside, and reached a hand in, gently scooping his little brother's hand in his own. "-Hi Graff," he spoke softly, giving the little hand a tiny squeeze. Dara swore he felt little Graff squeeze his hand back, as he happily burbled and cooed at his big brother. The young warthog stiffened, however, hearing Stanley give another unsettling grunt, darkly, as he sipped his coffee. Dara didn't like it when his father made that sound; he knew it meant Stanley was annoyed or in bad humour of sorts. He wondered what was making his parent irked in that instance. He didn't need to think long, for they were then joined by their canine host. The faint dark circles under his eyes showed that he'd been the last to sleep but the first to awake, which was his usual nor, but considering how late things had been the previous night, he'd gotten less rest than was recommended for an average Mobian. Yet this didn't seem to spoil the wolf's mood, as he seemed much cheerier than he had been the evening before. "-Good mornin'," he nodded to the Warthoggs, as he took a seat. "-Mornin' yaself," Stanley responded, staring at him thoughtfully. Darlene saw the look in her husband's eyes, and knew, he too, saw the dark circles and was using this to his advantage, in his theory that Jonah was "ill-bred" and "no-good". Her own guess was show correct, as the male warthog questioned the wolf, with a smug look, "-Sleep well?" His mate shot him a glare, but he obviously didn't notice or care. Luckily, their host seemed to be in too good a mood to be shaken from it or to understand he'd just been insulted. Jonah simply replied, "-Eh, could've had all the sleep I wanted... didn't need it." Couldn't anyways... who needs sleep at such a time?" I'm a father." Stanley murmured, "-Ah... ah see." Hmm, been there, done that." Once again, the mockery flew over the wolf's head, implying it for a simple remark that Stanley knew his situation, seeing as he had two sons of his own. Trying to get Jonah's attention away from Stanley before he said something REAL cynical, the female warthog spoke, "-That's wonderful news, Mr.Wolfe." How are they?" meaning his wife and child. "-She's fine, and the baby's healthy," Jonah responded, in a relieved tone. He smiled a little, a bit of pride showing. "-It's a boy." Strong little tyke, he is." They say he'll be a biggun when he's grown, from the size of his paws..." Darlene smiled back. "-Has he been named?" "-Yes, ma'am." We named him 'Svein'." "-Svein'," Stanley repeated his words, mulling outloud. "Hrmmm... not exactly ah common name, eh?" His wife was going red in the face, beneath her grey warthog fur, at his irrepressible behaviour. Darlene was convinced that either Jonah was just too joyous to sense the insults in his words, or he had the patience of an archangel. The wolf explained calmly, "-I guess you could say that was the point of it." Everyone is different, are they not?" So we figured, why not pick a name that accents that matter... a more unique and well... different name." Quickly commenting before Stanley got a second wind, Darlene said, "-I think it's a wonderful choice, he need not be ashamed of such a fine name." Jonah gave a sincere nod. "-Thank you, Mrs.Warthogg." He then glanced at the two young warthogs, with a soft look. "-Forgive my memory, but may I ask what you two young gentlemen go by again?" At being called a "young gentleman", Dara felt his insides warm with a bit of pride. He spoke confidently, "-My name's Dara." This is my baby brother Graff." A wider grin spread across Jonah's face. "-Pleased to meet you both." The young warthog felt his heart swell so big, it was as if it was floating. Other than his mother, no adult had ever spoken to him in such a friendly and kind matter. Mr.Jonah seemed so nice, how he talked to Dara as if he was a grown-up too, and how he smiled all fatherly-like. His own father, Stanley, talked as if Dara either wasn't there or too young to understand, or unless he was doing something considered troublesome (to his father). That, and Dara had never seen him crack a smile once. Ever. The wolf resumed speaking to Darlene. "-I must say Mrs.Warthogg, your boys certainly come from their own original titled mould, themselves." Before she could respond, Stanley told him, curtly, "-Indeed, yet they'll grow up as civil an' sophisticated as anyone else, thank yah very much." THIS time Jonah sensed the irritance in the warthog's voice, and said, "-My apologizes if I've offended you in anyway, Mr.Warthogg, I certainly had no intention in doing so." Stanley stared, hardly even blinking, for what seemed like an eternity, before responding, "-S'aright, none taken in that case, mate." Deciding he should leave the family to their own matters, Jonah excused himself and left. Darlene sighed woefully to herself. That was Stanley for you, he could spoil the humour, mood, or day for anyone, if he put his mind to it, or sometimes even without trying. But as she was expected to do, as Stanley Warthogg's wife, she said naught a word and simply tended to the children.

After the morning refreshment, the Warthoggs' were preparing for their departure, as they wanted to get a move-on before noon. Considering they hadn't unpacked much the previous day, aside from the evening essentials, all they had to do was move the luggage back outside to the wagon. Stanley had fetched the horses, and was starting to hitch them to the wheel-drawn vehicle. As he sorted out the ropes and bridles, Dara looked towards the horses, brightly. Seeing as his mother was occupied with the baby, he thought it alright for him being allowed to amuse himself. He approached the horses, cautiously of course, as not to startle them. He slowly held out a hand, in which they looked to him, and whickered softly, sniffing him. The little warthog smiled happily as their velvet noses nudged him affectionately. He stroked their muzzles, speaking quietly to them. They were used to him; Dara had spent many a time about them, treating them more as companions than pets or beasts of burden. He had even named them, Bruno and Samuel, respectively. (His father had no appreciation for this, naturally, and simply took to calling them "beasts" or "things" or "stomachs on legs", etc.) Also, he disapproved of Dara "messin' about them", as the young warthog was then abruptly reminded. "-DARA, GIT THE HELL AWAY FROM THERE!" Stanley barked out, seeing his son so close to the horses, who jumped back in shock. He snapped to his wife, "-Darlene, fer the luv of Pete, watch the kid!" Dara was swiftly drawn back by his mother's hand. Throwing down the heap of horse-wear, his father strode over, and glared him harshly in the face. "-Boy, you don't go walkin' round the horses like that, they'll kick ya!" he shouted, furiously. "They could crush yer skull under their hoofs if they wanted ta!" You stay put and quiet with yer mother, fer pity's sake, you hear me?" His son nodded feebly, ashen-faced, as he shrank behind his mother's dress skirts, in shame. Seeming satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, Stanley went back to the harnesses on the ground, picking them up to saddle the animals. Dara started trembling, hard as he tried not to, making Darlene worried. As Graff was now in his basket again, Darlene put her arms around her eldest son, trying to soothe him. A sudden burst of anger hit her, and she blurted out, "-Stanley, he meant no harm, you've no reason to frighten him like that!" Her husband peeled his eyeballs back around, to face her, surged by her 'obstinance' as he saw it. "-Oh that so... then tell meh Darlene, how's he gonna know the danger if ah don't knock the sense into him?" He'd go skippin' right undah the beasts fer all we know, and they'd trample him ta a mince, without him even knowin' what hit 'em!" Is THAT what ya want, luv?" The female warthog didn't reply, she just stared back, piercingly, realizing she'd been foolish to speak so aptly to him. "-Exactly... ya keep that in mind, will ya?" There's a reason ah wear the belt around here, woman, and ya seem to be forgittin' et more than I'm likin'..." He gave a fierce snort, and continued harnessing the horses. His family then figured it was best to sit still and stay out of Stanley's way, until he was finished. Once the wagon was loaded, with the horses harnessed, the male warthog gruffly ordered to get on in. Dara quickly scrambled in, but just as Darlene was about to step on, their canine host came rushing outside. He stopped before the Warthogg couple. "-Oh... I hope I haven't caught you too late, have I?" Jonah inquired, panting lightly. Stanley raised an eyebrow. "-Depends... s'matter?" "-Nothing, everything's quite fine," the wolf assured them. "I was going to ask your wife a question, but if you're on your way, then it's-" "-Nyah, gah ahead, ask," the male warthog commanded. He was rather baffled that Jonah was asking his WIFE the question; HE was the master around here, HE should be directed the inquiries. Jonah didn't seem to mind this; he turned to Darlene, nonetheless. "-I just wanted to thank you, Mrs.Warthogg, for your assistance last night; my wife says her gratitude as well." "-Oh, well it's quite alright, Mr.Wolfe, I'm glad I could help," the female insisted, modestly. "-Yes... well, Margaret just insisted I try to ask before you left... if you would like to see our son," Jonah explained. Darlene was deeply touched by the request. "-My goodness!" That would be-" She paused, and turned to face her husband. She knew perfectly well she could not go anywhere without his consent. He tightened his jaw, considering the matter. At once, his wife immediately thought he would make an excuse that she couldn't; that they had to leave right now and there. After all, Stanley was master killjoy. However, her assumption was for once, wrong. "-Ah suppose yah could." Jest don't beh long, ahright?" Darlene nodded, in respect. "-Yes Stanley." Her husband spat in the dirt. "-Ah might as well go an git sum more water fer the beasts." He looked in the wagon, and yelled, "-Dara!" C'mere boy, give yer pa a hand, huh?" His son trotted out, dutifully, as his mother, holding the baby once again, followed Jonah back inside.

Margaret was sitting on the side of her bed, dressed in a robe, indicating she'd only awoken probably minutes ago, leaning over the cradle nearby. She smiled graciously at Darlene's entrance. "-Mrs.Warthogg... I'm glad I could see you once more before you left us," she spoke. "I had to thank you in person for your kindness and aid to my husband, last night." "-Really, Mrs.Wolfe, I'm just relieved I could be of such use to you good people, for letting us stay," the warthog told her. "-Well, thanks to you, our baby got here safely," the female wolf, insisted, with praise. All three adults were now around the cradle, admiring the little fellow curled up in it. As Jonah had said, baby Svein was a sturdy and robust young pup, with hands a size as big or perhaps slightly larger than little Graff's. He had his father's grey fur, with his mother's white fur patches on his muzzle and feet, and the bang of hair on his head, which was almost ridiculously long, was the tone of brown fur his mother also had. A tiny pink tongue slowly rolled out, as the newborn wolf gave a long yawn. He seemed to be still quite tuckered out from the experience as well; after all, he was only several hours old. The pup's eyes blinked open, to reveal his paternal inherited blue eyes. Luckily for him, Jonah's eye defect had not left a mark on the next generation. He solemnly gazed upwards at the ones above him. But his attention was caught by only one. It was not Margaret's motherly smiling, her hand gently caressing his downy lock of hair out of his eyes, or Jonah's proud fatherly shining face, or Darlene's respectful admiration. No, it was on the wide-eyed gawking look of little Graff's green eyes. Had any of the three adults looked between the infants, they would have noticed the rather odd expressions, and what almost looked like a stare-down. Svein's tiny muzzle wrinkled in a sniff, and Graff's wee mouth was twisted into some sort of pout. It was as if they KNEW something. But it was cut short, for the female warthog then spoke up, "-He's a lovely little dear." My congratulations to you both, Mr. and Mrs.Wolfe." Sadly I must be departing now." Jonah gave a nod. "-Ah yes... forgive us if we've been in an inconvinence in any way-" "-No, not at all." It was a pleasure, truly," Darlene assured him. Margaret reached out and took one of the mother warthog's hands. "-I wish you and your family a safe journey... bless you all." And I hope we shall meet again someday, Mrs.Warthogg." The warthog smiled sadly. She knew they wouldn't. "-God bless you both and your little one." I pray you a happy life," Darlene said in turn. Little did any of them know, that their blessings and best wishes were in vain. As Darlene predicted (but for different reasons) the Warthoggs and Wolfes (of this parent generation) would never meet again. Then, within the year, Jonah and Margaret would die, along with the other numerous lives that would be taken in an ambush attack on their village, by the rising clan led by an Overlade named Snively Kintobor...

The rest of the Warthogg family's journal went relatively smooth, and they were entering the Royal city of Romatropolis, in no time. Despite the fact of being Southern born and bred, Stanley seemed to adjust to the atmosphere of it instantly. Survival of the fittest, first come, first serve, and all that; it was like second nature to him, considering it was his personal nature, as well. He found work right away, in manual labour and construction. It was his sort of profession, considering the very primitive pioneer-farming setting he had came from; he had built his own home and other housing equipment. Managed to find a decent and simple place for them to live in the new area too, close enough to the local school, for the children once they were old enough, yet secluded enough, so that others minded their own business. Dara and Graff found their new place big and full of wonder and bright new things. Darlene however, opposed to her husband and babies, was just barely managing to cope. She preferred to stay at home with the little ones, only going out of the house if she HAD to, to go get something or take Dara and Graff for a walk or stroll around when they got restless. She didn't like being out there, so many eyes all around her... But then again, to be truthful, Darlene was one of those people who could get lost easily in a crowd; she would rather either keep to herself or only close friends and family. Back in their settlement in the South, people and neighbours were fewer and farther between, and Darlene was used to the peace and quiet.

But not here, she thought, rocking the baby, who was by now, napping. As she laid him down in the cradle, the front door opened with a start. It was Stanley, who no sooner had taken off his coat and hung up his things, began talking non-stop about the city news he'd heard both on the job and in the streets. "-Eh, they be sayin' the new Royal heir's bin born at last; an' a princely one at that!" God bless n' such... but they've got sum folks a sayin' that the Queen's bin cheatin' on 'er husband!" A real doozy, that's fer sure." They say that baby boy came out blinkin' blood red fur n' black-pawed, an' his sire be orange fur n' brown paws!" Ain't that sumthin?" His wife chose her words cautiously as she could. "-Well perhaps his mother is red?" Or has red relatives on either side?" she suggested. "-Aye, ah think sum were sayin' sumthin' of the like... who knows," the male muttered. "An' of course, the doctor is all insistin' that them rumours be lies; the Queen's never bin unfaithful or whatnot." Honestly don't know which side ah believe mahself!" Considerin' she's Royalty, she could certainly git away with it with all the-" Just then, the couple were interrupted by a loud wail from the baby's cradle. Darlene gave a concerned wince, and quickly rose to her feet. "-Oh Stan... all that ranting and ravening on, you've woken up the baby," she sighed, picking wee Graff up, trying to soothe the distraught infant. "-Oh hell woman, ah didn't know he was sleepin'!" her mate scoffed, irritably. Some excuse, but the female knew better than to argue. Suddenly, she felt a light tugging on her skirts. Darlene looked down to see Dara clinging onto them. "-Momma?" "-Yes sweetie?" she said gently. Her son gave a most fretful expression. "-I can't find Digger!" he cried, of his beloved plush rabbit. His mother gave a thoughtful look. "-Well, where was the last place you left him?" The young warthog bit his lip. "-I don't know..." His big green eyes looked close to tears. Naturally, Darlene's heart went out to her mournful child. "-I'll help you look in a minute, angel," she promised. "Give Momma one second." Stanley snorted scornfully, at this. "-Yeh mean that rabbit thingin?" Pish... ah didn't have no bunny toys when ah was his age... and even if ah did, ah think ah'd have at least taken better care of it!" A shrill whistling sound came shrieking from the kitchen, causing Darlene to yelp in surprise, "-Oh dear!" I left the water boiling on the-" "-Aie, ah'll take care of it!" her husband griped. "Cripes Darlene, why yah take care of so many tasks at a time, when they can all catch up to yeh like this?" He stomped loudly out of the room, before she could answer. Which was just as well, for Darlene couldn't respond; how could she explain to him that doing all these things at once seemed to be the only thing to fill the odd void of useless and silence in her life here, the only thing keeping her mind busy and sane? Overwhelmed in the moment, the female nearly started to cry. Dara tugged her dress again, more gently. "-Momma... what's wrong?" Realizing how all of that must appear to her son, the mother warthog quickly put on a brave face, and said, "-Nothing, angel-pie, it's okay... did you find your bunny?" He shook his head, but didn't seem too upset. "-No... but I can wait," he offered. Darlene smiled warmly. He seemed to understand. "-Thank you," she whispered. Dara wrapped himself around her knees, affectionately. It was a bond they shared; the mother and son. They both knew what it was like to be treated like mere beings by Stanley, to be constantly harped on and reprimanded like children, and underminded, disrespected and kept at cold distance. Together, they were their own source of confidante and comfort. They kept each other going, they made each other's day just a little more worth it, and they both made mind to keep baby Graff and any other future children, loved and wanted, just as they wanted to be... 


End file.
